


Supernatural Finale Season 15

by amy_winchester3004



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Apocalypse, Bobby Singer Deals With Idjits, Character Death, Emotionally Hurt Sam Winchester, Episode: s01e01 Pilot (Supernatural), Gen, Hurt Castiel (Supernatural), Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt Sam, Hurt Sam Winchester, Jo Harvelle & Dean Winchester Friendship, Protective Dean Winchester, Protective Sam Winchester, Sam Winchester's Visions, Season/Series 15, Season/Series 15 Spoilers, Sick Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-02 03:02:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20268940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amy_winchester3004/pseuds/amy_winchester3004
Summary: It's the end of the world! Sam and Dean are trapped in the bunker after an apocalyptic nuclear explosion and are desperately running out of oxygen. The fall-out radiation threatens to wipe out the human race before hell does and all that is left is Dean, Sam and Castiel with only a few breaths left to spare.





	1. Livin Like You Were Dyin

"So, there are zombies, demons and everything we've ever ganked, running loose on earth and we have no chance against them all. Great, just great," Dean grunted angrily as he dipped his head and placed his sweaty palms on the surface of the wooden table.

"We can't just give up Dean. We'll find a way to fix this, and as crazy as it sounds, I think God is our only hope at the moment," Sam said subtly whilst flailing his arms about to match his words.

He sat comfortably in one of the old, creaky wooden seats which rested beside the living room table.

"God?! You mean the son of a bitch who started the apocalypse in the first place! Yeah, smart plan!" Dean grumbled sarcastically.

"It's the only one we got," Sam returned with a guilt-ridden shimmer in his eyes.

"So wait, if hell's no longer running the show, what about heaven? Have the angels fallen too?" Dean instinctively craned his neck to the left where Castiel was standing with a stiff and frozen posture.

"No, heaven's still intact; but angel radio is down," Castiel replied after pinning his fingers to his temple for a few excruciatingly quiet seconds.

"Well that's just fantastic," Dean commented sarcastically as he breathed through the gaps in his fingers which were now cupped helplessly to his face.

Suddenly an echo of fists pounding on a large metallic object radiated through the bunker which caused the boys to turn their heads towards the source in astonishment.

"There's at least 30 out there," Castiel informed them.

"But we're safe in here right? Can the warding keep them out?" Sam felt his face morph into an expression of curiosity and panic.

"Yes. Despite the past warding failures, these life forms seem to have limited brain capacity," Castiel spoke orderly as he walked steadily over to the table the boys were sitting at.

He straightened his elbow and created a gap in his sleeve as the angel blade glided into his grasp. Castiel raised the triple edged blade and placed it down on the table with a loud CLANK.

"How many people out there do you think have died... because of us," Dean reminisced and sulked through his clingy palms.

"Dean," Sam attempted to reassure his brother but was interrupted.

"After all, we WERE the ones who started the damn apocalypse in the first place," Dean muttered as he pulled out a chair and slumped into it like a bag of jelly.

"You weren't the one who set off the detonator or started the 'end of the world' timer. That was Chuck. He's to blame for all this, not you, nor me," Sam defended his brother with a stern but uncertain look in his eyes.

"If I'd have pulled that damn trigger when I had the chance, millions of innocent people would still be alive!" Dean growled as he smashed his fists into the desk.

"Yeah maybe they would... But I would've lost you too. And that's... I... I just can't, cause... I've already lost too much" Sam felt a burning pain in his chest as a tear pricked his cheek.

Sam and Dean sat in their rendition of absolute silence, with the exception of the zombies outside. Castiel felt the tension in the air, not just emotionally but physically. It was an anxiety which was left unspoken. It encompassed not only the room but the entire planet.

"Guys, somethings wrong," Castiel broke the emotional tension between the boys with his troubled tone.

"It's angel radio... There's... Oh no," Castiel stuttered with his fingers glued to his temple.

"What is it?! Cas, what's wrong?!" Sam leapt out of his seat and ran over to the struggling angel.

Dean followed closely behind with a look of widespread panic and concern on his face.

"It's Agla, she's... She's trying to tell me something," Castiel struggled to concentrate on Sam's questions as well as comprehend Agla's warnings.

"What is she trying to tell you?!... Cas?!" Dean yearned for answers but still showed consideration for the needs of his best friend.

"No this can't be happening!" Castiel yelled as his head was thrown forward and out of his trance.

"What can't be happening?! Talk to us Cas?!" Dean placed a firm hand on Castiel's back for comfort.

"Look at the news! Now!" Castiel glanced at the boys with absolute hysteria and horror as he gave the order.

Sam and Dean rushed over to the table as Sam crashed into his seat and opened the lid of his laptop.

Dean stood hovering over Sam's broad shoulders and Castiel followed Dean to the opposite side.

The first article which popped up on google featured a story on the video of a channel 7 news broadcaster which had gone viral.

Sam clicked the article as Dean averted his eyes to a sentence above the photograph which read 'The Apocalypse is Nye!'

"What the hell?!" Sam exclaimed with a petrified tone as he viewed the opening paragraph.

_'Government's plan to wipe out zombie threat with army grade nuclear explosives BACKFIRES! Will this be our final day on Earth?'_

"Well, how do we know this isn't just..." Dean's voice was obstructed as a tremor caused the Bunker to shake violently.

"Dean, I don't think this is fake news," Sam said with unease as he looked up at his brother.

"This may actually be the end of the world."


	2. No Exit

"Don't you just love Trump. Of course, the first thing he thinks of when he sees a threat this big is 'oh yeah let's just nuke em all with deadly explosives! That'll teach em! It's not like there are people living here too, no, they're just necessary collateral damage,'" Dean yelled sarcastically with his melodramatic impression of the president.

"Yeah," Sam sounded foggy and disorientated.

"But hey, at least WE'RE safe," Dean continued sarcastically but with a guilty expression.

Silence filled the room for what felt like an eternity before Dean noticed that Sam looked slightly disconnected with the reality around them.

"Hey, Sammy, you ok?" Dean spoke softly with a grumble accompanying his tone.

"Ah, yeah, sorry," Sam blinked furiously as he looked up at his older brother.

Dean gave him a reassuring pat on the back as he trotted up the stairs and over to the main entrance.

He stopped in his tracks as his ears identified something that completely skipped his mind.

"Why have they stopped?" Dean murmured to himself curiously as he recognised the odd silence.

"It seems, that us 3 are the only life signs I can sense within a 2-mile radius," Castiel said hoarsely as Dean shot him a surprised glare.

"I didn't think zombies could be killed without, I dunno, serious trauma to the head," Dean felt defeated as all of his favourite movie plots were now being shat on by real life facts.

Without any warning, a piercing noise struck their eardrums like a lightning bolt and bright red lights flashed and swirled through the bunker like a police siren. Suddenly, a thunderous clank was heard as all of the natural yellow light completely dissipated.

The boys whipped their heads around frantically, searching for the sources of disturbance.

"Lockdown," Castiel muttered to himself.

"So, what?... Now we're trapped?" Dean had a slight edge to his tone as if he could snap at any moment.

"Looks like it," Sam answered with his breath stuck in his throat.

Dean left his mouth gaping wide open as he continued to take in the sight of crimson red and the feeling of panic. Although, he tried his best not to show the terror which ran freely within his mind.

"What do you think triggered it?" Dean sounded irritated but curious.

There was a brief silence among them before Sam smashed it like a rock to a window.

"The tremor?" Sam threw in a possibility.

"No," Castiel interrupted with a constipated look on his face.

"There's a foreign substance in the air outside. I think that's what killed the half-dead human creatures," the angel's pupils began to shine a brilliant shade of pure white. The pinpricks of light which escaped his eyes looked like tunnels which opened up a pathway to his soul.

"Half dea... Don't you mean zombies?" Dean corrected him as he cocked his head and waltzed down the steps on a mission to return to the table.

The light which emitted from Castiel's pupils began to dull before it completely vanished within less than half a second.

"If that's what you want to call them, then yes," Castiel returned.

"Wait, so, how come we're still alive? If you claim that there's something deadly floating about the air, then shouldn't we all be dead too?" Dean hypothesised as his brows cocked up, which caused his eyes to open wide.

"Good point. How come we're not all on the floor by now," Sam muttered in response to Dean's hypothesis.

Castiel's eyes lit up with an idea as his body followed what his mind was set to perform. He took several pounding steps towards the exit out the back and began to head down the hallway with giant gaping steps.

Dean and Sam followed closely behind, a little suspicious but interested as to what Castiel had planned.

The angel turned to his right as he grasped and twisted the handle of an old crooked door. It opened with a loud creak and let the boys in without much hesitation.

The inside of this particular room was filled with centuries-old machines and electronics. Castiel scanned the room for the object he had his mind set on and found it almost immediately. It was by far the largest thing in the room and occupied its position in the centre of the small space they were surrounded by.

He tapped and flicked mindlessly at the buttons and levers on the large, flashing, metallic box until the screen revealed something that he wished it hadn't.

'**_Ventilation system locked. Residual Radiation Poisoning Imminent. Oxygen levels 56%'_**

Castiel's facial expressions turned from one of curiosity and desperation to one of pure agonising horror.

Dean and Sam immediately noticed the gaping hole in Castiel's mouth and the glassy look in his eyes.

"What wrong?... What does it say?" Sam spoke first with the expectation of terrible news.

Castiel stared at the control panel but had his eyes focused on the empty space surrounding it. He was in shock, which was unusual for an angel but he had gotten used to developing new human traits after hanging around the Winchesters for as long as he has.

With a partially absent mind, he started to click a few more buttons until he reminded himself that one of the boys had spoken.

"During the lockdown, the sensors picked up a swarm of radiation in the air outside, enough to kill anything that came into contact with it. Its defensive mechanisms were triggered which locked the ventilating system and then reversed it," Castiel said in a huff as he shifted his attention from the control panel to Dean's green, gemstone eyes.

"In English?" Dean requested sarcastically with an edge to his voice.

"The air we're breathing right now, is all we have left."


	3. The Final Hurrah

"WHAT?!" Dean yelled in a panicked state as he stared wide-eyed at Castiel.

"I said, 'the air we're breathing right now, is all we have left,'" Castiel grumbled and looked at Dean with a slightly tilted head. 

"No, I know what you said... It's just... How do we get out?" Dean raised his hand in front of Cas as his eyelids fluttered slightly upon reflex.

"Dean, I'm not sure that's a smart idea," Castiel dipped his neck but his ocean blue eyes remained in contact with Dean's.

"You JUST said that we're running out of oxygen and the first action you take is to stay here and do jack squat!? I'm sorry, but I'm not following!?" Dean shouted as he threw his hands around to enhance his sarcasm.

Sam and Dean both noticed the shift in attitude that Castiel had to this particular issue as he lowered his head to the ground with a shameful glare.

"Look. We're gonna die in here unless we figure out a plan B," Dean said sternly but with a slightly calmer tone as he cupped his forehead in his calloused hands.

"The radiation from the nuclear bomb has obviously contaminated the air outside, and if you go out there... You will die a most painful death," Castiel informed them with a shimmer of torment and regret in his beautiful eyes. 

"Well ain't that a lovely image," Dean spoke ironically as he walked mindlessly towards the door they had entered not too long ago.

"What about everyone else? If the air is contaminated... Then how many people are still in the land of the living?" Sam said as he too locked eye contact with the resisting Castiel. 

The pain and torture in Sam's eyes revealed the trauma he had been inflicting on himself emotionally. Regardless of how he tells Dean not the blame everything on himself, in times like these, it hurts more to resist the perceived truth.

Cas closed his eyes softly as he felt his eyelashes brush up against his cheeks. He looked out amongst the dying population and searched desperately for any sign of life. 

It burned Cas on the inside to even think about what had become of God's wonderful creation.

"Even with my limited power, I can only sense four life signs. Everyone and everything else... is deceased," Castiel choked silently on hidden tears as he felt a sickening knot form in his gut.

"Wait, there's only three of us here? So, who's the fourth?" Sam spoke in a curious tone as the skin in between his eyebrows wrinkled spontaneously.

"There's another man. He's built himself a safe house... Although, just like us, he is trapped," Castiel said with a gravelly tone. He sounded surprised and slightly joyed at first until realising the man will share the same fate as the rest of humanity.

"What does this man look like? We may know him and maybe, just maybe we could try and get a message across," Sam said as his eyes once again filled with a slight glimmer of hope.

Castiel placed his index and middle fingers to his temples as he bowed his head down to the ground. His eyes squinted in the corners and his eyebrows were pulled together which caused a winkle in the skin in between. 

"He is quite old, somewhere in his 70's... He has thin yellow hair... No wait, make that a yellow wig... And he appears to be wearing a sweater and tracksuit pants with green bills printed on them..." Castiel struggled to communicate despite his mouth opening wide with every word. 

"If you tell me that he is spending his last minutes bathing in a tub full of cash..." Dean grumbled sarcastically but his mouth refused to finish the end of the sentence.

"No. He is sitting on a golden object. I think it may be a toilet... Ooo strange... His face has been contorted into a shape that I believe has been labelled by adolescents as 'the duck face,'" Castiel observed and with his head still anchored towards the ground. 

Dean and Sam let out a small chuckle as they at looked eachother in obvious recognition. Dean rolled his eyes dramatically with a cheeky smile and then turned to face Cas.

"He wouldn't happen to be the president of the United States would he," Sam asked rhetorically once Castiel rose his head to meet their gaze.

"Yes, he is. How did you know that? Did you have another vision Sam?" Castiel stepped forward with worry displayed on his features from head to toe.

"No, no, I'm fine Cas. The duck face... it's just, a stereotypical trademark of his," Sam answered is small increments as another small chuckle escaped his lips.

"Oh, okay," Castiel looked slightly bummed but mostly embarrassed. 

"Well regardless of his status, there really is nothing useful that he can do. Communication lines are down and it's not like he can magically snap his fingers and decontaminate the air," Castiel rambled on with flaying arms as Dean and Sam averted their stares to him upon his last sentence.

"Can't you do that? I mean, you are an angel?" Sam said with his breath caught in his throat. Although, the way he said it may have come off a little more direct and slightly harsher than he expected. 

"No. Not even an archangel has the power to undo all of this," Castiel reassured him as he crossed his arms over his chest.

The three of them stood silently as their smiles slowly but surely leaked off of their lips and turned into a concentrated frown. 

Realisation was dawning on them and it was undoubtedly becoming harder for them to accept. The Winchester's have never been known to give up and lay down their arms, but this time they had no other choice.

"Well I dunno about you, but I need a beer," Dean groaned as he trod out of the cramped enclosure and into the less claustrophobic hallway. 

Sam and Cas followed closely behind as they passed multiple doors before reaching the kitchen. 

Dean waltzed over to the fridge as Sam and Cas slouched comfortably on opposite sides of the table. 

"Hey Cas, you want one?" Dean called out as he held out three brown bottles which were lodged between his fingers.

"Yeah, why not," Cas answered, but he sounded as if he were only giving himself this pleasure because he had been emotionally defeated, and craved these last few good moments with his boys. 

One last drink for the three Winchesters.

Dean chucked Sam his bottle from across the room as his eyes traced it mid-air before landing in Sam's large hands. He then sat down comfortably beside Cas and slid the bottle to his left.

Dean's neck jolted back smoothly as he took a swig of beer, gulping it down as if it were nothing.

Sam copied Dean's actions almost immediately and began to screw the cap off. Soon they were all mindlessly gazing ahead of them into empty space with only brief moments where they'd lock eye contact.

Dean found purpose in his life through fulfilling his father's wishes and protecting Sam no matter what the cost. Although it was too painful for Dean to look into his little brother's hazel eyes as they sat hopelessly and desperately at their table. 

Dean's mind was plagued with his relentless thoughts, surrounded by the dead silence which encompassed the room. 

They were soon approaching a fate that was sealed in stone as their final Hurrah.

But Dean just couldn't bear the thought that this time, he wouldn't be able to save his brother.


	4. Men of Steel

A tear-stained Dean's cheek as the tension and heartache which filled the empty space in the room began to grow immensely.

"You know, I'd always thought that I'd go out gun's blazing. But this..." Dean stared off into the distance as if he were picturing what would happen in his final moments.

"Yeah," Sam felt his heartache as he halted Dean from speaking any further.

There so much Dean wanted to say to Sam, but speaking didn't seem appropriate. Instead, they just sat in silence, taking small sips from their beer bottles as if savouring their drinks would buy them more time.

"Sammy," Dean spoke soulfully and quietly, but that one word had more meaning behind it than anything else.

Sam placed his beer down gently and shifted his gaze to Dean. Sam gulped down the saliva which was slowly collecting in his mouth and shook his head in small increments.

"I know what you're gonna say," Sam interrupted in a whisper as he adjusted his jaw slightly.

"You don't have to be sorry. This wasn't your fault. None of this has EVER been your fault, Dean. So don't go blaming yourself for any of it," Sam continued in a whisper as his fists clenched unintentionally.

Dean could see the emotion clouding in Sam's eyes, the moisture building up around his pupils and letting go as it fell to its death.

Dean's memories flashed rapidly behind his eyes, revisiting every failure from his friend's deaths to his little brother Sam.

'**_Ive got demon blood in me Dean! This disease pumping through my veins and I can't ever rip it out or scrub it clean!'_**

** _'Ever since I came back, I am a better hunter than I've ever been! Nothing scares me anymore, because I can't feel it.'_ **

** _'You know what I confessed in there? What my GREATEST sin was? It was how many times I let you down.'_ **

** _'Sammy close your eyes.'_ **

Dean blinked furiously to free the images from his mind and took a deep breath of reassurance.

"You don't go blaming yourself either. We can't have two Debby downers here, that's my job," Dean chuckled weakly, but the imprint of sorrow remained in his eyes.

"Quit burying yourself in all this... this crap Dean! In these last few moments, can you just... be my big brother again and not this false persona?!" Sam whimpered silently as he struggled in disparity to gain the higher ground.

Dean's gaze floated around his brother's face, trying to come to terms with their fate but failing to hide the fear which glowed from its roots.

"Okay Sammy," Dean waited several moments before revealing the broken being behind his charade.

Dean placed his hand palm down on his chest as it burned intensely. His lungs felt like they were being crushed slowly between two brick walls as he struggled for breath.

Sam opened his mouth wider to inhale more oxygen, but nothing seemed to give him the relief he desperately needed.

A wheezing noise escaped both of their mouths simultaneously as they felt a throbbing sensation at the centre of their skulls.

"I know you feel it. The air, it's thin," Sam sounded like he just finished running a marathon as he began to cough heavily.

Dean and Sam both took in deep wheezing breaths through their nostrils and let out the air triumphantly through parted lips.

"And... it's getting thinner," Dean's mouth closed as he felt another cold inrush of air through his sweaty nose.

Dean's hands and feet began to grow fidgety as he found himself tapping the edge of the table with his toes. The fight or flight mode programmed in his genes kicked in and now he was beyond restless.

"Ok, I don't wanna wait around for death to grip me by the heels whilst hopelessly sulking. Anyone comin?" Dean slapped his hands on the table and rose to his feet. All heads had suddenly craned upwards to stare directly at him in confusion.

"What are you doing Dean?" Castiel's voice sounded normal but still had the grating tone which accompanied it.

"Well, I figured, instead of sharing sob stories I think id rather drift off into eternal slumber watchin a man in tights defy gravity while drinking a crapload of booze. What d'ya say," Dean's face contorted into a sad smile as he saw Cas string his eyebrows together and tilt his head.

"No man can defy gravity, much less in tights. Did he happen to be possessed by an angel? That would make much more sense," Castiel spoke with certainty but it was laced with a confusion similar to a newborn child.

"No, I mean the Man of Steel! Superman! He's a pop culture LEGEND! I thought Metatron would've hand fed you this info?" Dean said with enthusiasm as Sam rolled his eyes and placed an exhausted hand on his forehead.

"I've told you this before Dean, angels don't need to eat," Castiel spoke sternly as he lowered his head and looked up at Dean through focused eyes.

Suddenly, Castiel's face contorted into one of relief and horror all at the same time.

His hands reached for his head as his eyes grew wide and he let out a small moan.

"Cas what's wrong?" Dean walked over to Cas with a shocked expression on his face and placed a supporting hand on his _friend's _shoulder.

"It's chaos up there! So many souls! With no leader, the angels have lost direction," Castiel sounded worried and frantic as if he had to take immediate action.

"Wait, this is heaven we're talking about? I thought the big guy destroyed that place?" Dean sounded bewildered as his hand slipped down Castiel's biceps for comfort.

"So did I. The angels have continued to communicate through angel radio but I just assumed that they had fallen," Castiel mumbled to himself as he placed his hands in his lap.

"Wait, so can't you just zap us to heaven? Maybe act as stowaway's until earth pulls its head out of its ass?" Dean suggested with hope and relief painted across his face.

"I could try, but I will have to enter through the portal in the sandbox. Since you humans cannot survive in the Earth's atmosphere, I will have to go alone. Although, extra help will be needed if I am to escort you to heaven via a different portal," Castiel's voice was dull but nonetheless filled with hope and anticipation.

Sam walked up to Dean who lingered by Cas's side and gave him a reassuring but satisfied look.

"This could actually work?!" Sam both asked and stated as he was unsure of the likelihood and the uneven balance between pros and cons.

Castiel nodded as all the boys looked as if they'd been struck in the gut with a tonne of bricks.

The air had been stripped of another layer as it grew tremendously thinner. Except it didn't seem to bother the boys too much as they had hope of surviving, and that was all the strength they needed in order to fight.

"Good luck Cas... And be quick!" Dean added as Cas disappeared with a whip of his trench coat.


	5. Buried

It had been over 18 hours since Castiel left on a mission to save the boys from their numbing fate. 

The air was thinning rapidly, and their life was on the clock.

Sam felt the pulling urge to sit alone in the confinements of his bedroom and pass away peacefully in his slumber, but he knew he couldn't leave Dean alone.

Instead, they lay with their backs slouched against black leather in the lower basement, which Dean previously had trouble naming.

Even with time slowing down every waking second, like the agony of suffocating would last an eternity, he hadn't decided on whether to call it the Dean Cave or Fortress of Deanitude, so he chose the latter.

As they lay back in defeat, tears leaked out of their eyelids. Not because they were in despair, but because their lungs craved oxygen so immensely.

They stared hopelessly at the black screen in front of them, seeing straight through their darkened reflection.

They were surrounded by deafening silence for what felt like an eternity until Sam broke it as if he were snapping an animal's neck.

"Hey Dean," Sam's voice sounded quiet and raspy as if he were gargling gravel.

Dean felt obliged to answer but his mind and gut told him to stay quiet.

Although, in this situation, he thought silence was worse than facing the situation. He wasn't alone, he had Sam, and that's all the comfort he needed.

"Yeah," Dean answered with a quiet heave of breath as he shifted his neck to look at Sam's reddened face.

"You really think Cas can do it?" Sam sounded exhausted, and he could taste the tears piling on his taste buds.

"Yeah, I do. I mean, the little guy has persuaded me more times than id like to admit," Dean let out a small chuckle which sent him into a coughing fit as he closed his eyes and struggled for a gap in the relentless heaving.

"Okay," Sam sounded deep in thought as if he were making a life or death decision.

Their gasping had become audible as they wheezed and coughed with sweat and tears interlacing on their cheeks.

"Thank you," Sam's shuddered as his tears turned from signs of struggle to droplets of misery.

"For what?" Dean's eyebrows creased even though he knew why his was saying it.

"I know I haven't been the best brother. I mean with the whole drinking demon blood, Ruby, Purgatory, Lucifer, all of it... You always forgave and forgot, and I know I haven't always done that for you. So, thank you," Sam struggled to speak as he inhaled weakly after every few syllables.

Dean recalled old memories as he piled up on all of Sam's greatest betrayals. He felt so very hurt but knew that they have quite the opposing personality types.

Despite this, Dean refused to let this be Sam's deathbed apology. He was determined to make it through this.

"Save your breath Sammy," Dean replied as he slowly turned his head away from Sam, feeling a soft pull at his heart.

"Dean, you gotta face the facts here... If Cas was coming back, then he would've been here hours ago... They probably have him locked up somewhere," Sam mumbled as his words were slightly slurred in order to save his rapidly depleting energy.

"He's coming back Sam," Dean said sternly as he shifted his position, his neck craned toward the ceiling.

"You don't know that... Look, I'd just rather not spend my final moments with the false hope that I'll be swept off my feet, away from the danger. Cause when has anything ever actually gone our way without the world paying an even bigger price?" Sam argued as he reached his large hands up and ran them down his wet face.

His 6 o-clock shadow feeling harsh under his fingers compared to the rest of his features.

"We got mum back! Hell, we even got dad back... And Cas... Well, Cas won't let us down, not like this," Dean felt weighed down by the fraction of hope he was carrying for the both of them.

Sam wanted so badly to throw all his feelings and problems away, but he couldn't do that without them burdening Dean too.

An hour passed by and the boys were losing their hope for Castiel to return. The longer they sat unmoving in solitude, the slower time seemed to pass.

For Dean, it was excruciating watching his brother suffer. Even if he closed his eyes, he could still hear the struggling wheeze escaping his brother's throat. Even if he shut off all of his senses, the thought lingering in the back of his mind that Sam was dying was too much to handle.

Dean's throat felt like it had closed itself off, like a door being slammed shut. He had no energy to fight it or to force any inhalation. This was a feeling beyond exhaustion.

His eyelids endured the weight of dumbbell's pulling them shut, the light slowly blurring and fading from existence.

For the first time in the last 24 hours, he could actually say that he felt Zen.

The breath was slowly leaving his throat as he felt an overwhelming rush of emotions, clouding his vision like fog. He no longer felt hatred, nor did he have any lust for revenge, but there was an uncomfortable emptiness in the pit of his stomach.

His connection with the real world was fading in and out like static electricity. One second, he could feel his body pulling for release and the next he couldn't feel anything. He was numb.

Like a frozen wave smashing on the shore, Dean could sense recognition in the voice that was struggling to release any distinguishable sound.

"D...De...Dea...Dean!" a voice echoed desperately down an endless tunnel as it ricocheted off the curved, cemented walls.

The sound grew closer and closer until he felt like he could grab onto it like a rope, anchoring himself back into his body.

He lashed his arm out to grab the thick, knotted end of the hay coloured hawser. Suddenly, he could feel arms drift around his torso, pulling him towards reality.

The rope was swaying back and forth as if it were stuck in a violent tornado. Dean continued thrashing his hand out but kept accidentally missing it, his calloused fingers colliding with his palm.

"Sammy!" Dean screamed as his vocal cords turned it into a high-pitched growl.

His hopes filled tremendously as an image rippled on the wall in front of him. His legs were stretched out on the couch and he could see two comforting arms wrapped around his torso.

Dean's heart shattered into pieces as he looked into his brothers distressed hazel eyes. Sam blinked back tears every second, his face scrunching up which bore his pearly white teeth.

The noise escaping Sam's mouth could only be described as brittle minuscule chokes as Dean felt the embrace of his brother grow tighter.

"P..l..s.. D..n," Sam struggled to talk as all the oxygen was sucked out of his lungs like he was trapped in the vacuum of space.

The image began to flash like lightning as it dissipated in front of him, leaving specs of ash and unforgotten memories behind.

Dean's insides curled in on itself as he made one last swing for the flaying rope and suddenly his hands wrapped around it firmly. The rope yanked and pulled and swung to release itself from Dean's grip like a dog on a leash.

Without a second thought, Dean wrapped his leg around it and began to pull himself up. His muscles screamed with agony and energy deprivation, but he had to keep going.

He whipped his head up towards the ceiling and recognised his brothers face through the peeping hole above him. It was as if Dean had fallen into the depths of his subconscious and was fighting to scramble his way back to the surface.

Sam's lips trembled as his mouth gaped wide in shock. Dean's hand had struggled its way up onto his stomach as he weakly interlaced his fingers into Sam's palm.

"D...n," Sam's eyes squinted as he focused his gaze on Dean's watery, green gemstone eyes.

Abruptly, the colossal winds whipped Dean to the side as his head collided with the cement wall.

A void of black smoke drifted over his eyes as his body shocked itself into a state of chronic pins and needles.

Dean could feel his grip loosen as his fingers grazed over the rope and his body curved hopelessly backwards.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he thought he saw something. Movement. A man rushed towards him, his trench coat whipping against his legs as he grew closer.

The sight of this beautiful angel drifted further from Dean's subconscious body as he felt the breeze against his back pull him towards his doom.


	6. Another One Bites The Dust

Dean's pulse thrummed hopelessly under Sam's fingers. The beat slowing down and fading every passing second.

Dean's head rested on Sam's lap with the younger brother's arms hugging tightly around Dean's limp form.

As the breath creeped out of Dean's parted lips, his eyes began to lose their colour. The once beautiful apple green was fading to a dull mouldy colour.

Sam felt Dean's body slip out of his grasp, so he gripped his underarms tightly and lifted carefully with the remaining strength he had left.

"D'n..." Sam croaked in a faded whisper as his tears fell like waterfalls down his rosy cheeks. His heart shattered into tiny shards with each piece reflecting a memory of his older brother.

The long nights Sam experienced when monsters crept into his dreams and Dean was there to comfort him through it. He remembered Dean's limp and sleeping arms wrapped around Sam's small body, with so much love and protection leaking out of him.

In this moment of dread and sorrow, he just wished Dean would hug him back and tell him everything was going to be alright. He wanted nothing more than to feel the warmth radiate from the torso in his arms, but Dean was as cold as a ghost.

"Sam?..." Sam felt a gush of cold atoms prickle his cheeks which sent a shiver down his spine. He craned his head to his right as if his mind had comprehended the words slower than his body could respond to them.

A man in a light tan trench coat and scruffy black hair ran toward the brothers with his mouth gaped open slightly. He was confused but horrified by what he was seeing.

"Is he..." Castiel choked on his words and couldn't find the strength to will himself to continue speaking.

"Cas I cou'dn't..." Sam's lips were trembling as he buried his face in Dean's shoulder.

Sam's whole charade crumpled as his body contorted in on itself. The person holding his brother in his arms was no longer the man who beat Lucifer and stopped the Apocalypse, it was a scared little boy, terribly frightened of being alone.

Castiel could see how broken this man was and how hard he was fighting to stay conscious.

"Sam... This wasn't your fault," Castiel reassured him as he glanced down wholeheartedly at Dean's face. The pink in his cheeks no longer visible as a shade of sickening white replaced it.

"Cas h's g'ne," Sam's mind had completely shut down as he was hyper-focused on mourning the loss of his older brother.

Sam's tears crusted on his cheeks as his eyes dried up, incapable of producing the water his body craved so immensely.

His eyelids drooped as his chest rose unevenly with the short intakes of oxygen. Dean's corpse on him had become a weight he fought to uphold. It was a competition that Sam knew he couldn't win.

"Sam... I talked to a few of my most trusted Seraphim and they agreed to assist me in storing your soul until the earth is habitable once again," Castiel chose his words carefully as his body made a dent on the couch next to Dean.

"Wh'r's my br'th'r? is 'e in h'ven?" Sam slowly lifted his head to look desperately into Cas's blue eyes.

"Yeah he is," Castiel replied as he placed a reassuring hand on Sam's toned shoulder.

"W'en I go, W'll I be w'th h'm?" Sam's voice strained massively and croaked with every syllable. His hands still held tightly onto his brother's dead body as if it were his lifeline.

"No. In order to preserve your body in heaven for several millennia, we need to shut down and store both your living form and your conscience. You will be stored separately to the trillions of souls which inhabit heaven, and Dean's soul is located in a section where only angels and the deceased can visit. I'm sorry," Castiel's gaze fixated on Dean's thick lips which were currently turning a crusty shade of blue.

"No Im s'rry C's. C'se 'd r'ther die th'n b' lock'd 'way. I j'st c'nt do th't 'gain," Sam stuttered as his last tear reflecting his most pained and sorrowful memories rolled down his cheek.

"What do you mean 'again'?" Castiel's eyebrows creased together with confusion and curiosity.

"G'dreel. He k'pt me tr'pped 'n m' own b'dy. But ev'n then, I had D'n... L'vin in solit'ry for th't l'ng, I d'nt th'nk I cou'd d' it," Sam's chin curled in and eyes were bloodshot. His legs which were tucked uncomfortably under Dean's pale corpse began to prickle and lose feeling.

"If this is what you want, I can send you to Dean's confinements in heaven. Except, there is no going back from that. You will spend eternity in heaven, unable to return to Earth," Castiel reconfirmed, regardless of knowing that Sam rarely changed his mind.

"Pl's," Sam looked sternly at Castiel with his tortured hazel eyes as he saw Castiel creep closer towards him.

His staggering breaths grew faster and heavier as he awaited his determined fate. Castiel's side now rested lightly on Dean's arm as he placed his left palm gently on Dean's chest.

Castiel awaited the rise of Dean's chest under his hand like the old days when he would watch him sleep, but that moment never arrived.

The angel felt a pain in his chest like a knife had sliced open his insides and there was no way to repair the damage.

He leaned down and placed a warm and soothing kiss on Dean's cold forehead; and he wanted nothing more than to prolong this moment, but he knew it would only cause more suffering.

Slowly, he looked back up to Sam's quivering form and reached his right hand up to Sam's head. As his fingers grazed Sam's hair, he pressed firmly and a blinding white light began to pour out of Sam's mouth and eyes like a beacon.

There was no screaming, just silence. The air vibrated and convulsed but Sam remained calm. He knew he'd be in a better place once this was all over and that offered him a sanctuary he'd never had before.

As the light faded away like the sun setting after a long day, Sam's eyes showed no recognition in his environment at all.

Suddenly, his neck rocked back and his body followed like a wave. He crashed into the neck of the couch as Dean's body shifted slightly on top of him.

Unlike Kevin's corpse, Sam's eyes weren't burned out. They were a foggy shade of hazel which blended in with his pale extremities.

Castiel caught Dean's body in his arms as it shifted and slid off the couch. He held him close and attempted to share his warmth but Dean's body couldn't retain it.

"I love you," Castiel whispered as a tear sparkled and glistened on his rosy cheek. It pained him to know he wouldn't get a reply, but regardless, he held Dean in his arms and offered him the comfort he failed to give before his demise.


	7. No Rest For The Wicked

Sam could feel everything and nothing all at once. It was an overwhelming hurricane of emotions and excruciating pain but his lips wouldn't budge.

A swirl of colours abruptly swam through his vision, creating beautiful and overwhelming masterpieces.

His head spun like a carousel, rocking his soul and plunging it into darkness. The sensation of dizziness he could feel radiate through him, although it seemed distant.

The tingling had emanated from the numbness of his limbs, slowly turning colder as the blood ceased to rush.

Sam took in a deep and agonising breath as the breeze tickled and scraped at the back of his throat.

A throbbing sensation overtook his skull as he heard a faint echo bounce through the atoms in the air.

"Those boys are always getting themselves into all kinds of trouble," gruff vocals ricocheted and shot fiercely through the air like a bullet. Sam jumped at these words and whipped his head around frantically, searching for the source of the voice.

A worried smile made its way across his face as he recognised who the grungy tone belonged to.

"Bobby?" Sam whispered as he pushed his neck forward in an attempt to project his voice.

The word was clear and concise, which would've struck Sam's curiosity as to why it wasn't strained anymore, but at this moment he was just relieved.

"Trouble doesn't find _them_, they find _it_," Sam reached out to the older woman's voice and attempted to grab a hold of it but failed.

Instead, he took one terrifying step into the darkness with no tether or knowledge of where he was heading. He just knew that where he needed to go was forward and staying frozen wouldn't do him any good.

"Hello?" Sam called out as he found he was walking steadily on hard ground.

Sam swung around defensively as pellets of water hit his head and dragged down his arms and neck.

"What the hell?" Sam whispered curiously to himself as his eyebrows were drawn inwards to make a crease in his forehead.

The air smelled of salt, and the water which ran down his skin gripped the clothes tightly to his body.

Suddenly, colours ripped out through the darkness like a rock thrown in a pond. Rain splashed his face and crept in between his parted lips to touch his dry tongue.

He peered with squinted eyes and saw a single-story brick building with yellow lights projected in blocks through the blue chequered window.

With an urge to seek shelter from the environmental shower, he strode towards the wooden door with familiarity poking at his insides.

He reached the doorway and placed his soaked palms on the spherical metallic handle and attempted to twist it.

His hand slipped and struggled to grip the object as icicles spread across his knuckles.

The handle finally turned with a click as he pushed it with his free palm and listened as it creaked open.

Suddenly, he was met with silence. The chattering which once took place died out as four stunned eyes watched attentively as Sam slam the door shut.

"Sam?" An intrusive masculine voice stood out amongst the rest like a lightning bolt in the night sky.

Sam whipped his head around as a shockwave of guilt and love hit him in the gut.

His hazel eyes watered as they flicked from one person to the next. He took in a deep shuddering breath as his eyes met a male with short, brown messy hair and grass green iris's. The familiar red plaid shirt gripped to the black under tee on his muscular frame.

As his mind attempted to adjust to the overwhelming sight before him, strong arms were enveloping him in a warm hug.

The man pulled him closer as he shared his radiating body heat with Sam, his chin resting heavily on his brother's broad shoulder.

Sam was pulled out of the hug before he knew it, with Dean's hands planted on his shoulders.

"Took you long enough," Dean sighed as he let a chuckle creep up the back of his throat.

"Where's Cas?" Dean asked as he peered over Sam's shoulder, hoping to glance upon the signature trench coat.

"He's uh. He's still at the Bunker... Do y... Do you remember what happened?" Sam stuttered with an unsure tone as he locked his eyes with Dean's.

"Yeah. Add it to the list of things I wish I could forget," Dean admitted, currently unaware of the small crowd of people listening in behind them.

"How'd you get here if feathers didn't bring you? Hyperdimensional booty call?" Dean joked with a serious expression as he received a few scoffs from Sam.

"Yeah, something like that," Sam responded without ease. He knew deep down that he should tell his brother what really happened but couldn't bring himself to burden him any further.

Dean pat Sam's back comfortingly as he guided his sight over to the three people gathered at the front of the bar.

The strange familiarity seemed obvious as his eyes settled upon a large red sign which spelt ROCKY'S BAR in exaggerated block letters.

"Well we can certainly count on you two to pick a fight with God," A woman in her late forties with shoulder length dusty blonde hair broke the silence.

"Hey Ellen," Sam muttered with a grin as he walked over with his arms casually spread out.

Ellen wrapped her arms under Sam's armpits as he towered over her, folding his arms around her neck.

"It's good to see ya," Sam spoke cheerfully but his voice was noticeably strained from the resisted, oncoming tears.

"Ya boys definitely screwed things up this time," A sarcastically gruff voice penetrated the air and caused Sam's heart to beat out of his chest like a cartoon.

"Bobby," Sam puffed out his name like it were the most beautiful and important word in existence.

"Who would've known ha. God... The bad guy... Massive plot twist... Always expect the unexpected," A young blonde woman interrupted as Sam glanced over and saw her slouched comfortably on a stool as she took a swig of beer from her maroon coloured bottle.

"Well, it wasn't that unexpected. He was a douchebag from the beginning," Dean said with confidence as he strolled behind the bar and reached under the counter.

His hand rose above the surface of the counter as he held two bottles of beer clutched between his fingers. With a twist of the cap, there was a small pop and a sizzle as the fizz escaped through the neck of the bottle.

"Well, he certainly had you two fooled. And not to mention actually succeeded in ending the world," Jo commented sarcastically with an attempt to get a rise out of Dean.

Instead, Dean ignored her comment and slid the second bottle to Sam from across the counter.

Sam grasped the beer but unexpectedly felt a sharp pain in the back of his skull like something were prodding at his brains from the inside.

He squinted harshly and turned his head to the side in an attempt to shy away from the pain but was unsuccessful.

Sam's strange reaction didn't go unnoticed by Dean as he rushed curiously and protectively to his younger brother's side.

"Sammy? Hey, you alright?" Dean placed a comforting hand on Sam's shoulder but the throbbing agony in his head only grew more intense.

Sam let out a yelp of sheer terror as he remembered what this feeling had led to all those years ago. Although, he thought he had gotten rid of them since he halted his demonic blood obsession.

He felt the heat from three separate bodies gather around him like a protective blanket.

"It's happening again. Sam, you have t....." Dean's voice trailed off as his head performed cartwheels on the edge of a cliff.

Abruptly, his consciousness gave way temporarily and his connection with his environment began to fuzz over and disappear like breath on a mirror.

"Dean?!" Sam yelled in pure terror as his hands clutched tightly around his skull.

Sam waited impatiently for a response, but nothing arrived. The heat had dissipated along with the idea of finally reaching his sanctuary.

His fingers rubbed and tangled through his long strands of hair as his knees buckled and slammed into the ground in a hard and painful THUD.

After what felt like hours, Sam's senses felt like they were piecing themselves back together like a puzzle.

He could once again feel the familiar and comforting warmth of his brother at his side. The heat from Dean's hand radiating in pulses through Sam's body in an unknowing attempt to help his brother regain his strength.

"Sammy? Hey man, u ok?" Dean whispered compassionately as if Sam were nursing a killer hangover.

"I think so... But... that felt a hell of a lot like one of my visions? Except, without the actual vision part," Sam rubbed his palm over his eyes harshly as he strived to rid his head of the throbbing after-effects of phenomena like his psychic visions.

"U just cured over... Do u need some aspirin?" Dean's voice sounded a lot younger and high pitched than he remembered, which seemed rather strange given the circumstances.

Sam could feel the judgement lurking about the air, but he chose to ignore it due to other distractions.

"Nah, I'm sure I'm alright. Just a headache. What were you saying before?" Sam asked with curiosity bubbling inside of him like a boiling kettle.

Sam finally decided to open his eyes as the oxygen got lodged in the back of his throat. A woman slowly appeared to the left of him like a ghost as he unintentionally stumbled onto his feet.

Sam stared down at his older brother, the blur in his line of sight disappearing as pure shock took control of his system.

Dean tilted his head up slightly as he regained his lazy posture and plumped his lips.

"Dads on a hunting trip. And he hasn't been home in a few days."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My vision was that at the end, Dean shows that he has no recollection of the previous events or else he wouldve said so. He was just concerned for his little brothers wellbeing. Ive left the ending open for different interpretations, but my interpretation was that everything that had happened through their lives from that first episode had all been a vision and Sam now possesses the ability to alter and change the outcomes of the past 15 seasons.


End file.
